


All that Glitters

by jameee25



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Barebacking, Domestic, Kid Fic, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 16:51:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6123103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jameee25/pseuds/jameee25
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even at forty, and with a teenage girl under their roof, Sam and Dean can't seem to resist the urge...</p>
            </blockquote>





	All that Glitters

**Author's Note:**

> A friend asked for Glitter!porn drabble . So I wrote one. And I ended up with 4k of filthy smut disguised as a curtain fic.
> 
> Ton of hugs to my super amazing beta, Doilycoffin, who did a great job and made this thing readable. All remaining mistakes are mine.
> 
> Hope you'll enjoy!

When he finally gets home from work, Sam is exhausted. There are two weeks left until the end of term, and apparently each and every one of his students feels the urge to meet him in his office hours, even though he promised to tell them exactly how the final is going to be like. He loves his students, he really does, but he has better things to do with his evening than sitting in his office after hours with Stacy and Andrew and Carly, trying to convince them they have no reason to stress over his exam. And no, there will be no need to memorize dates, he is teaching Legal Ethics, not History 101, for Christ's sake.

So, Sam gets home tired. Really tired. And much later that he originally planned. All he wants to do is grab something to eat, take a shower, and veg out on the couch and watch things get blown up on the screen.

He opens the front door and the house is eerily quiet. He can hear the water running in the shower upstairs and suppresses a sigh. No way in hell he will have warm water left.

"Daddy?"

And now he is automatically smiling. He will never be too tired to hear this. He is moving towards the living room, stupid smile still plastered on his face, when he trips on a pair of golden-ish Adidas shoes and nearly falls over.

Of course.

She is sitting on the couch, applying nail polish on her toenails, surrounded by what seems to be the entire contents of her bathroom. Body lotions and mascara tubes and make up platters are scattered all over the place, but his daughter seems completely unfazed by the mess and smiles sweetly at him.

"Bea, honey, how many times have we talked about-"

"Leaving my stuff in the living room. Yeah, I know. Picking it up in a second, I promise, just let me finish this."

"I would so like to think that you have some of my traits in your gene pool as well,” he sighs. "Even if you are a replica of your disorderly dad."

"What traits are those? Dorkiness and extremely high forehead?" Said disorderly dad stepped into the living room, hair still dripping from the shower.

Sam turns to him then, trying to think of a witty comment that will wipe the smugness from Dean's face, but he is quickly distracted by a droplet of water running down his brother's neck. Dean, the bastard, notices that as well and smiles sheepishly at him.

"Hi there Professor Winchester," Dean closes the distance between them and plants a chaste, wet kiss on Sam's mouth, then licks over his lips.

"Hey to you too," Sam smiles.

"Urgh, enough with that already. Can you please at least try to act like normal parents every now and then? "A groan comes from the direction of the couch.

"Beatrix Mary, please pick up all of your things and take them to your room. That normal enough for you?" She knows Sam is not really mad.

"Yep. In a minute. When it dries off," She answers, blowing air on her toenails.

Sam sighs, and sits beside her on the couch.

"Be home by eleven, Missy." Says Dean, approaching them. "School tomorrow."

"Wait, you going out?”

"Going to Sophia’s. She's got Avatar 3 on DVD. Dad said it's okay."

"Dad said, huh?" Damn Dean, he thinks, this girl has you wrapped around her little finger.

"Ah Ha." He ruffles her hair and she dodges, picks up her abandoned sneakers and turns towards the stairs.

"Beabea!" He calls after her. "Your stuff!"

"Let her go," Dean sits down next to him and places a beer bottle in his hand.

"Since when are you all considerate and understanding? Do I need to remind you how you reacted last month, when Matt, or Mark, or what's his name asked her out?"

"Sammy. Let her go. She is fifteen, and she has her little girlfriends, and she's going out, and it's all good, it's fucking awesome…" Dean purrs at Sam's neck. He never noticed his brother was sitting that close to him, but he is SO not complaining. He also needs to stop thinking like a teenage girl.

"Someone is in a good mood today,” mumbles Sam, leaning his head back to give Dean better access to his neck. He can feel Dean's smile against his neck, his hand dropping to caress Sam's still-fucking-tight at forty-two, thank you very much, abs.

"Daaaaad! Come on!" Their daughter is in the living room again, and Sam has no recollection of when that happened. He also has no clue which dad she was referring to, but he got the general idea.

"Can't you wait five minutes? You know, until I'm not here? Jeez, I watch television on that couch!"

Dean stops his assault on Sam's neck, but his hands remain where they were, one tracing softly over Sam's nape, the other still on his stomach.  
"You know, you should really be grateful that your parents have a healthy relationship and freaking awesome s-"

The calls "Dad!" and "Dean!" are shouted out simultaneously, and Dean smiles. Amazing how much of prudish Sammy there is in that girl of theirs.

"I soooo do not need to know about it. Seriously. One day you're going to spend a fortune on my therapy. Eww." Bea rolls her eyes, but Dean knows, they both know that she is not really bothered by their PDA. Quite the contrary, in fact. He knows how much this stability, this confidence in her family, in her parents, means to her. He knows that they are her anchor. Just as much she is theirs.

"Do you need a ride back?" Sam asks.

"Sophie's dad is going to drop me home after. I'll be here by eleven. Don’t worry." She says, picking up her phone from the table. "And please. Go to your room. Or something. And I'm only saying it for the sake of your healthy relationship."

"What exactly is it that you think we are going to do?" Smiles Dean innocently. "We're going to watch some TV. Then I'm going to tear your father apart in Monopoly."

"We don't have Monopoly at home, "she shoots back, and Sam is smiling as well, enjoying the familiar banter between his daughter and his brother, his man.

"Scrabble. We are going to play Scrabble. "

Bea mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like "Scrabble my ass…" and then she leans towards the couch, hugs Sam and kisses Dean on the top of his head. “I'm going out. Don't worry. And don’t…"

"Go already!" Dean cuts her off, smile dancing in his eyes. "Or we are going to move it to your room."

"Is there any chance that I might be put up for adoption? I don’t know how much more of it I can-"

"Bea. You can go kiddo. I’ll keep him out of your room," says Sam.

"Okay, I'm going. For real now. "She shoves her phone in her back pocket and heads to the front door.

"Have fun!" Yells Dean. "And if I hear that douche Max was there I'm gonna-"

"Bye! I'm out!" and the door slams behind her.

Sam turns to Dean. "Do you think we should have told her to-"

"Sam." And Dean's hand is holding Sam's hair tighter, while the other one is climbing slowly up his thigh. "Shut up." And Sam has no other choice but to give himself up to his brother, lean forward and kiss him. He forgets about his fatigue, forgets about the shower, and forgets that he is hungry. Dean's mouth is so hot against his, his hands exploring, mapping Sam's body like he doesn't already know it by heart, like it hasn't been 24 hours since the last time they did it. Sam moans loudly into Dean's mouth.

"Yeah, Sammy. I wanna hear you," mumbles Dean. "How long has it been since you screamed my name? No one to hear you but me now…and I want it."

"Dean…" Sam tries to shut him up, to force him to keep kissing Sam, because if Dean keeps up that husky, ragged whispering in his ear and his dirty, ridiculous talk, he is going to lose it.

"Shhh…Don’t worry baby. We have at least three hours. Wanna check how many times I can make you come in three hours?"

And this is it. Sam is done. He pushes Dean against the couch and claims his mouth in a wet, searing kiss. It is messy, and dirty, and Sam feels like he is seventeen again, Dean and him using every possible moment when John's not there to roll on some ratty old sofa and learn each other.

Sam's hands are sliding from Dean's neck to his shoulders, then up again, to entwine in his short hair, grabbing what he can. "Sam, Sam, Sammy…" Dean moans, and Sam is so focused on his brother, almost forgetting where they're at, but then it hits him. "Dean…" and his brother holds him even more forcefully, and it becomes almost impossible to talk. “Dean…C'mon, let's take this up-"

"Don’t you dare move." Dean bites Sam's jaw. " Oh, fuck, I am so horny, if you try to stop me now it won’t end well, I swear- " and Sam gives up, lets his everlasting hero worship for his big brother take over, and he pushes his rock hard dick-and when did that happen?- against Dean's, friction almost unbearable. Dean slides his hands under Sam's suit jacket, trying to help him get rid of it, desperate for some skin-on-skin. Sam's huge hands are sliding under Dean's Tee, finding the taut skin of his abs, and apparently Sam is not the only one well-preserved over forty in the house. He grabs Dean's hips, cold hands on warm skin and pulls him tighter to him.

Dean's thigh is between Sam's legs now, rubbing against him, and then Sam's moving his hips just so, just how Dean wanted them, and his dick is heavy and hot under his dress pants, so no complaints there. They are moving together, dry humping like a pair of teenagers, and it's soooo good and then "Dean, Dean, want you, let's go upsta-"  
"Sam, shut up shut up shut up," and Dean needs to fix it because there is no way in hell he is moving. So he does the only thing he can think of to get his brother to keep his big, dorky, so motherfucking soft mouth, right. The. Fuck. Now.

He cups his brother over his pants, and wonders how come he didn’t think of it earlier. "Wanna suck you Sam, shit. Want your dick in my mouth."  
Sam actually whines at that, and lifts his hips up so that Dean can take his trousers off, and Dean slides to the carpeted floor, hands resting over his brother's thighs, and he is licking his lips like a cat who is about to eat the fattest canary in the world.

"Jesus fuck." Sam slides down a little on the couch, wincing when his bare thigh rubs against a sharp metallic tube- eyeliner?- thrown there, but then he feels his brother's mouth enfold him, hot and wet, and he forgets all about makeup. The fact that there was no teasing on Dean's behalf is surprising, because he usually enjoys torturing Sam with little nips and nibbles and kitten licks until Sam is a whimpering mess, but not this time.

Dean took him all the way in, and Jesus, that's hot like the sun, and he is hollowing his cheeks and sucking with all he's got, and Sam lets out a loud groan. "Fuck, Dean. God, your mouth…" He is fighting the urge to thrust forward, and moves his hands through his brother's hair, pulling lightly at the soft, short strands. But Dean is having none of it. He pulls back a little, mischievous grin in his eyes when he says, “Come on baby, fuck my mouth, I want you to," and in he dives again, relaxing his throat and pulling at Sam's hips, urging him to shove forward. And who can fucking say no to that?

Sam tightens his hold on Dean's hair, and thrusts up. Dean lets out a small gagging sound, just because he knows it turns Sam on, and moans around the heavy girth in his mouth. He can do that for hours, never gets tired of the feel, of the taste of his baby brother. His baby brother, Jesus. And fuck if it's not still the world's most filthybadwrong turn on in the world. And he gets off on it like whoa.  
Sam is moaning like a pornstar above him, leaking pre-come into Dean's mouth, as he brings one hand to Dean's cheek, to feel himself inside, as the other one is resting on Dean's neck, keeping leverage as he is pushes inside.

Sam lets his mouth run wild with a mix of cusses, endearments and breathy gasps, "Dean, god, yes, fuck, right there, so hot, Jesus, babe," and Dean enjoys every second of it. But suddenly the pressure on his head changes, and instead of holding him in place, Sam's hands push him back, far and out, and his brother's dick drops out of his mouth with an obscene 'pop', shiny with spit and pre-come. He looks up in surprise, only to have Sam pull at his shoulders and haul him over to the couch, "Ngggg…Wait, wait, not like this. Dean, wanna come with you inside me, wanna feel you," and yeah, okay. Dean is all aboard this plan.  
He takes off his sweatpants and boxer briefs- no going commando with a teenage girl in the house- in one swift movement, and it’s still an impressive trick if he may say so himself- especially with Sam's impatient hands grabbing and clawing at him like a drowning man. Sam leans back on the couch, muttering about damn mascaras and shoving at random pinkish jars and bottles until they fall to the floor. He lifts one leg up onto the backrest of the couch, the vee of his thighs open and inviting and Dean leans in. Sam arches his back wantonly as his brother licks and nips across his chest, teeth scraping pink nipples, calloused fingers mapping the inside of one thigh. "Yesss," Sam hisses, and Dean smiles as he moves his mouth down, taking one of Sam's balls in and sucking it. Sam writhes under him, and Dean feels like his own cock is about to explode if he doesn't get inside Sam soon. He trails one finger down Sam's perineum, ready to push back and up into his rim, when suddenly he remembers where they are. Shit. No lube. "Dean? Come on man, don't leave me hanging!"

"No lube," He groans, and the last thing he wants to do is move, knows that if they don't finish it then and there, their little spontaneous bubble is going to pop, and he doesn't want that. It’s been a while since they both went at it like this, feral and thoughtless and instinctive. Married sex is great, and their daughter is the best thing that ever happened to him, but sometimes he misses the times when it was just him and Sam, and sex was available anytime, anyplace, not having to keep quiet or cover evidence. Sort of.

"I don’t care," there’s a hoarse moan coming from under him, and Sam pushes his ass up, trying to get Dean to move it.

"Dude, I'm not fucking you dry," the protective big brother in him shifts into gear.

He looks around him, and sees a small, pinkish-silvery bottle. Then he smiles.

"Yahtzee!” he grabs it and leans down, lips closing over Sam's in a lewd, filthy, open mouthed kiss, full of tongue and clacking teeth. That's more like it.

"Got it."

Sam is humming happily, and pulls Dean on top of him. Dean fumbles with the lid of the bottle, pouring some of the creamy substance on his fingers, and shoves one into his brother, all the way in. Sam groans under him, opening his legs even wider "Oh, fuck Dean. Yeah," he looks completely debauched, and Dean can't help but answer with a moan of his own, looking down at his finger, covered in glittery crème, sliding into his brother. "Shit Sammy, so fucking hot baby." He adds another finger, twisting and turning them inside Sam's tight heat.

"Dean, Dean, come on, I'm ready, do it, do me," Sam's mouth running a mile a minute, and his hips thrust up, fucking himself on his brother's fingers.

"Yeah baby, Imm'a do you, gonna do you so good…" and he pulls out his fingers, bringing them up to Sam's mouth as he rubs lotion on his cock and gets ready to slide home. Sam opens his mouth greedily, loves tasting himself on his brothers fingers, and he licks at them and gives out a choked laugh, "Fucking strawberries Dean, what did you use?" He sucks Dean’s fingers just as his brother lines himself, one hand holding the base of his cock, as he slowly sinks into him.

"Oh, fuck ," Dean lets out a shaky breath when he is all the way in. He pulls Sam's leg, the one that was resting on the floor, to his hip, and pulls almost all the way out. "Like it better when they taste like you," and he takes his fingers out of Sam's mouth and brings them to his own lips, licking at the digits and moaning at the taste.

He plunges back in, in full force now, a movement that sends Sam's head back, and some unrecognized bottles and tubes clattering on the couch.

They are at their own dance now, the familiar push and shove, giving each other all they're worth; locked in their own little world. It never gets old, it never gets boring. It's them, down to the core. Together, giving up control, pouring their torn-up hearts and souls into each other. And nothing in the world can be better than this.

Dean can feel his orgasm building, fucking shit, it was starting to build the minute he saw Sam standing at the living room today, all suit and briefcase and "I'm a teacher" look on his face. Damn, his brother is a real piece of work.

"Sammy, come on baby, wanna get you there," he groans, and his brother opens his eyes, mouth slack, and pulls him into a kiss. Dean's hand creeps between them to wrap around Sam's leaking cock. "Yeah, yeah, like this," says Sam, and he bites at Dean's pulse point. "So close…,"

"That's it sweetheart, that's it. Let go. I wanna hear you," he licks Sam's ear, bites the lobe, and thrusts harder. He is not going to make it. Sam arches up, one hand on Dean's ass to urge him forward, the other pinching at his own nipple. Lord have mercy. One, two, three pulls at Sam's dick, and Dean brings out the heavy guns and shoves a finger into Sam alongside his dick . And this trick never gets old. Sam's whole body spasms, and he comes with a shout all over Dean's hand and chest.  
Dean closes his eyes, frees his finger and grinds into Sam one last time when his orgasm hits him like a bat to the head. He almost blacks out, resting his head on Sam's chest and heaving loudly.

"Holy mother of fuck, Sam."

"Yeah," Sam's answering laugh is muffled in his hair. "I'd say."

"Did you think we’d still fuck like this when we were over forty? And with a goddamn kid in the house, no less? Shit."

"Never thought we’d make it to forty," Sam sighs, but it's a happy, content sigh.

"Yeah well. Look at us. Going at it in suburbia, like some stepford dads. Having sex on a couch that looks like Saphora threw up on it. "

"Using glittery lotion for lube," laughs Sam. "That beats down even the time we used motor oil."

"Dude," his brother protests. "That was a fucking awesome time." And Sam really can’t argue with that.

He moves up to a sitting position. "I need a shower. And is that…Oh god, my ass is covered in glitter!" Dean lets out a small chuckle, pulls Sam for a kiss and says, "Give me ten and I'm gonna lick all that glitter out of you. Then I'll let you go shower." And okay, yeah. Sam can definitely go with that.

***

The next morning Sam wakes up to an empty bed. His whole body feels sore, but in a good way. He remembers the night before and smiles to himself. Yeah, definitely the good kind of sore. A soft blush rises in his cheeks as he thinks about Dean eating him out like a girl, spread wanton on the couch while deep throating his big brother in the filthiest sixty-nine there is. Last night was fun.

He stretches out, glad that he didn’t give up that shower after all, and goes to the bathroom. Last night he had fallen asleep the moment his head hit the pillow, leaving Dean to deal with the mess downstairs. He didn’t even wait to hear Bea get home.

After he finishes his morning routine, he dresses up in a faded jeans and a T shirt- thank God, no classes today- and goes down the stairs.

When he enters the kitchen he sees Dean messing around? with the electric juice extractor- yes, Sam knows he went over the top with that one- and his daughter munching on a piece of toast by the counter. He moves towards her and kisses the top of her head.

"Morning baby, have fun yesterday?"

"Yeah, it was great. Sophie has this crazy 3D Tv, so we watched the movie with these-"

"Hey, don't I get a good morning kiss?" And apparently not only Sam had a good time last night, because Dean is in a very good mood if he succumbed to the hated morning rituals of the soccer moms (hey, it's his phrasing).

Sam moves past his brother, swatting him lightly on the ass as he takes a seat next to his daughter. Dean yelps, but hands Sam a cup of steaming coffee and plants a soft kiss to his lips.

He lets his hand linger on Sam's shoulder, slightly moving back and forward. Yes, definitely in a good mood. Bea smiles at them, then furrows her brows when she looks at Dean's hand.

"Ah, Dad? Why do you have glitter on your fingers? "

Sam nearly drops his coffee cup.

"Your thing. It…ahh…It spilled on the couch and I had to clean it. What did I tell you about leaving your stuff all over the place?" Dean tries to change the subject, but their kid is not buying it. Sam doesn't understand why, because it seemed like a nice save from Dean- and it's not that unrealistic of an excuse. But then he looks up at Dean, who seems puzzled by that just like him- and- Oh God.

His stubble and lips are all covered in glitter. Silvery-pink honest to god glitter, all over the bottom half of his brother's face. So yeah. There is a small part of Sam that misses the cage in that moment.

He lowers his gaze just as his daughter gets up with the most epic eye-roll to ever grace her beautiful face.  
"I don't want to know. Never. Ever. And you can burn that thing because I will not touch it again as long as I live."

Dean laughs then, a booming, full body laugh, and hugs Bea, who is trying to squirm away from him. "This is not funny! Sooo Not funny! Lemme go, dad, Jesus!" Which makes Dean laugh even harder, but he lets her go. She huffs and grabs her bag.

"And you owe me $20. It was freaking Bath & Body works. You can send it to my new address, which I will soon have. Because I'm so going to find another family to take me." Sam grabs her wrist and pulls her down for a hug.

"See you after school? I’ll make ribs." She sighs, but hugs him back.

"Don’t bribe me with food. And I want potato wedges with it."

Dean lifts his brows at her, and she hugs him too. "Yeah, okay. Now can I go?"

"Have a great day sunshine,” he says to the top of her head.

***

When she leaves for school, Sam is still beet-root red and contemplating what possessed them to go at it like randy teens in the living room. And to use their daughter's body lotion as lube, nonetheless. Holy hell.

And then Dean is leaning over him, right before he is leaving for work too, and chuckles, "Sammy. I saved the thingy. Kinda liked seeing you all glittery and shiny for me," and he bites at his lobe and kisses his temple.

"See you later."

And yeah, Sam thinks that perhaps it was worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> This one-shot fic is a part of a massive verse that for now exist only in my head.  
> If you have questions about the back story and/or have any prompts or request for more fics in this verse, feel free to drop me a line here or at clearlylostmymind.tumblr.com.  
> I'm always happy to discuss head!canon...


End file.
